Forever & Always
by World'sOnlyConsultingCriminal
Summary: Sherlock and John are gonna have their little Hamish. :3 But...? But what? Something always goes wrong. Shameless fluff. Happy ending. Promise.
1. Prologue

"Sherlock? Are you still sure you want to do this?" John asked for the sixteenth time this hour, making it the one hundred and sixty-seventh this week. After the first dozen times or so, it does get a little old.

"Yes John." My replies had gone from long winded explanations to one or two words.

"Because if you want to back out, now would be the time. It would be okay with you if you wanted to stop now, really love, there isn't any rush for this." John babbled on and on. Was he getting cold feet?

"John. Please, I want to do this. If this constant asking is because _you_ aren't ready for this, I will return this cup empty and we can walk out of here right now." I waited for his reaction. He seemed surprised, eyebrows lifted, eyes widened.

"No. It's not that…"

"Then please John, please tell me what it is. I'm supposed to be wanking off into this cup right now, but your constant worrying is worrying _me_. I can't get off on that!" I said half-jokingly.

John sighed. "I'm just afraid that once we do this, you'll regret it… This isn't some experiment Sherlock."

I was a little hurt. Did he really think that I considered this an experiment? I wanted a child just as much as he did. Maybe for less sentimental reasons, but it would be nice to raise a young one to be just like me. I could just imagine a tiny little Sherlock running around making deductions and annoying the crap out of people. I smiled a bit, "John. Please stop worrying. This is what I want."

"Okay." John knew better than to argue any further. After being married for a whole two years, he knew that I got whatever I wanted, when I wanted it. Except when I wanted to play Cluedo… I had kind of blown that one.

I winked at him and walked into the little room.

An hour later, John and I sat in two very uncomfortable chairs across from the doctor. He was going on and on about the surrogate mother process, but having done countless hours of research on it, I was no longer interested. Instead I was looking around the room, doing my best to tell what kind of man we were dealing with. Divorced, one son (now deceased), clinically depressed, however he remained very cheery towards his patients. A very good doctor, and a published writer as well. A very good one in fact, judging by the awards and certificates around the room.

He was just telling us about the surrogate mother we'd chosen when she knocked on the door and walked in. I was immediately overcome with relief. This had been the only part of my concern: an unknown person, carrying my and John's child. We hadn't yet met her, and I'd become extremely anxious about it. However, she was clearly the ideal candidate. Well dressed, she clearly had a little bit of money. Good diet, well exercised. Currently single, supporting herself with a decent job. I suppose she was pretty, but I'd only ever had eyes for John.

I stood up and shook her hand. "Miss Aarons. I'm Sherlock Holmes. This is my husband, Dr. John Watson."

She smiled. Good teeth too. Brilliant. "Please call me Piper." She shook John's hand as well. "A doctor, huh?"

"Have a seat Miss Aarons. I'd like to just go over a couple more things." The doctor said. I rolled my eyes, my turn.

I took a deep breath.

John nudged me, "Don't." He whispered through his teeth. Ha, as if I could resist any longer.

"Surrogacy is an arrangement in which a woman carries and delivers a child for another couple or person. In this case it would be the lovely Piper here. The surrogate may be the child's genetic mother which is traditional surrogacy or she may be genetically unrelated to the child which is referred to as gestational surrogacy. In a traditional surrogacy, the child may be conceived via home artificial insemination using fresh or frozen sperm or impregnated via intrauterine insemination performed at a health clinic. This health clinic in fact. A gestational surrogacy requires the transfer of a previously created embryo, and for this reason the process always takes place in a clinical setting. However, we mustn't worry about that because we will be going through the traditional surrogacy as you are already aware. The intended parent or parents, sometimes called the social parents, may arrange a surrogate pregnancy because of female infertility, other medical issues which make pregnancy or delivery impossible, risky or otherwise undesirable, or because the intended parent or parents are male. And unless you are completely deaf, blind, and dumb, you would be aware that it was the latter. The sperm or eggs may be provided by the 'commissioning' parents, but donor sperm, eggs and embryos may also be used. But my sperm has already been provided, so no donors will be needed. I believe that pretty much sums everything up. I'd like to go now if John and I are free to leave. I have a fascinating triple murder case to solve."

I heard John sigh and I grinned. Piper and the doctor were both speechless. But it wasn't like I'd said anything they weren't already aware of, apart from the triple murder case of course. That had just popped up earlier this morning.

"I'm sorry." John said.

"I'm not." I chuckled.

"Why are you always such a show off?"

I just shrugged.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well yes, you and Dr. Watson are free to go, but there is one last thing I'd like to mention. Sometimes, in the case of traditional surrogacy, it takes a couple of tries for the egg to fertilize. So don't expect Miss Aarons to be pregnant on the first try. We will call you as soon as the tests come back positive, or if there seems to be any problems. I assume you have already exchanged contact info? I feel that it is nice to get to know the mother of your child and spend some time with here, even if she won't be around during the raising of your child."

"Did you spend a lot of time with your ex-wife while she was pregnant with your son before you ran off with the newborn?"

"Sherlock!" John groaned.

"What? Not good?"

"Bit not good. I'm sorry Doctor Stephens." He pointed to the door. "Let's go Sherlock."

I got up and walked to the door. About time, I had more fun things to do.

"It was nice meeting you Piper."

"You too, Dr. Watson. You've got yourself a handful with him; think you can handle another child?" She laughed. Oh wonderful, a sense of "humor." What was one con on a list of tons of pros?

"I think I'll be able to handle it." John followed me out the door.

Once we were outside, John turned towards me. "What the _bloody_ hell was that?"

"A health clinic."

"Don't get smart with me Sherlock."

"Well I couldn't possibly get dumb with you."

"You know what I mean."

"Okay." I hailed a cab.

He sighed, giving in.

"I'm sorry John."

"Really?"

I thought about how I should answer. "Not really. But I love you…"

I wouldn't have been surprised if he had slapped me, but instead he just groaned. "I love you too. But do you think you could _stop_ offending every person we talk to?"

"Well maybe if some people weren't so easily offended…" I quieted when I saw the look on John's face. _Now_ would be a good time to remain silent.

* * *

_**Alrighttt.. New Johnlock. c: Yay. **_

_**This is kind of a little prologue thing. **_

_**The next chapter will most likely be quite a way forward in time.**_

_**About 9 months if you catch my drift. c:**_

_**It may be a while before I update, I've got a Sherlolly going on too.**_

_**Anyways, hope you guys like it. (:**_


	2. It's a Boy

**Almost five months later...**

There was a knock on the door, but I ignored it. I was too busy analyzing a certain poison that had just killed a poor young boy not far from Baker Street. This crime was linked with several others happening in the area, but the murderer was hiding his tracks well. The children would just go missing, and then show up dead seven days later in their own bed with this poison in their system. This was the fifth hit in the last two months and I couldn't just seem to get a handle on it. But if I could just identify this unfamiliar poison, I was _sure_ I could find the culprit.

There was another knock on the door, this one a lot more urgent. "Sherlock! I know you're in there."

"How?" I asked. John could be so sexy when he tried his hand at deducing things. It was cute and a total turn on to see him try to be like me.

"I didn't actually. But now I do." Oh, he thought he was outsmarting me? Maybe he was, just this once. John was the only person in the world that knew of any of my weaknesses. He opened the door slightly and peered in. "Do you have a minute?"

I sighed. "I have more than just a minute, John. Unless you or someone else has plans to kill me in the next sixty seconds."

John rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Well of course I did, but that is hardly relevant." I went back to my microscope.

"I would appreciate it if you were home for dinner." John said.

"Why? I was planning on working late tonight."

"You work late every night." John complained slightly.

"Your point?" All this talk was just wasting time.

"I think you could manage to take this one night off."

"Fine." I started to put my stuff away. "Why is she coming over?"

"How did you… You know what, forget it. She's coming over for dinner because I asked her to."

"Why?"

"Sherlock! She will be the mother of our child; don't you want to know her at all?"

"What does it matter? The baby may or may not share some of her physical qualities, but mostly everything else will be determined on how he or she is raised at home and what he or she is exposed to on a daily basis." I slid past John and started down the hall.

"We are still going to get to know her. Whether you like it or not, she's a large part of our life now. Plus, being the biological mother of our child, she will be a prime candidate for a future babysitter." John argued. Maybe his points were valid, but I felt something rising up inside me. A feeling I wasn't familiar with.

I twirled around to face him, "You find her attractive don't you?"

"Sherlock, you've got this all wrong. I don't…"

I cut him off quickly. I didn't want to hear his excuses. "Shut up, John. Of course you do. She's attractive by a normal man's standards. You're a man. Majority of men want women. Unfortunately, you are included in that group. I believe you are bisexual after all. You haven't had a woman in a long time. You're feeling… deprived."

"Sherlock. Stop making assumptions and putting words in my mouth!"

"What can she give you that I can't?" By now I was screaming. I knew what that feeling was now. Jealousy. It's an emotion that typically refers to the negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity, fear, and anxiety over an anticipated loss of something that a person values, particularly in reference to a human connection. Jealousy often consists of a combination of presenting emotions such as anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness and disgust. Jealousy is often reinforced as a series of particularly strong emotions and constructed as a universal human experience.

John looked me over with questioning eyes. "Sherlock, can you just hold on a second and listen to me?"

"No." I strode off and got myself a cab before he could say another word. Upon my return to Baker Street, I quickly found my way into the bedroom and threw myself onto our bed. I could smell dinner, but I wasn't in the least bit hungry. Not after this case and not after this little incident with John. Soon I heard John enter the flat and knock slightly on the door.

"Sherlock, will you please listen to me? There is nothing going on between me and Piper. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I will admit, she is an attractive young lady. However, I am only interested in you. You are my _husband_, Sherlock."

I remained silent. He found her attractive. Whether he was going to do anything about it or not was irrelevant. John sighed and I could hear him walk away after the doorbell buzzed a third time. I could hear Piper's voice talking, but I couldn't make out the words. I felt my wedding band on my finger and had the strongest urge to take it off, but I couldn't do it.

My phone buzzed and I glanced at it excitedly, hoping it was some news, any news, from Lestrade. But it was just John. _Dinner is on. Please stop sulking and come greet our guest. –JW_

_Why should I? –SH_

_I've already made a valid argument to that point. Stop acting like a child. –JW_

I chose not to reply. If he wanted to think I was acting like a child, I would let him think that.

_If you come out in the next five minutes, I'll forgive you and you can fuck me any place in the flat tonight. –JW_

_Makeup sex on the table? –SH _I grinned at the thought of it.

_If that's what you desire. –JW_

_Well played Dr. Watson. –SH_

I opened the door and walked out, seating myself quietly at the table as far away from Piper as possible.

"Evening." I said tartly.

"Good evening Mr. Holmes." Piper said politely.

After a meaningful glare from John, I replied. "Please, just call me Sherlock."

She smiled at me and continued eating her dinner. I poured myself a glass of wine and started to chug it. But as soon as John gave me his famous disapproving look, I set it down.

"So Piper, I see you're about twenty weeks along?" Twenty-one weeks and four days to be exact, but John's always telling me not to show off.

"Twenty-one weeks and four days." She said. It kept everything I had not to throw something at someone.

"Everything is going well I presume?" John asked.

"Of course, John. Obviously. Look at how healthy she looks. She practically glows." I said shortly.

Piper smiled, "Thank you, Sherlock." She turned back to John. "I found out the sex this morning, but I wasn't for sure if you guys wanted to know, or if you would rather wait."

"We want to know." John and I said at the same time. John looked over at me and smiled. Maybe all was well after all.

Piper laughed, "Well that was considerably easy. It's a boy."

I could feel the grin spreading across my face. He was going to be just like me.

John chuckled, "Just what we need, another _Sherlock Holmes _running around."

* * *

**_Yayyyy. c: It's a boy! _**

**_Sorry it took me so long to update this one. I've been busy with other stories as well. _**

**_If Johnlock is your thing, be sure to check out my other stories.. I've actually just started a new Johnlock. c:_**

**_Leave your reviews! Love you guys! c:_**


	3. A Little Hamish

"John?" I said for probably the seventh time in the previous ten minutes.

"Yes, Sherlock." He said trying to remain patient with me. I knew how hard it was for him.

I looked over at him nervously before turning my attention back to boring news on the waiting room telly. "Never mind."

I could almost _hear_ John roll his eyes, but I knew he was nearly as nervous as I was… If not more. Any moment now, and John and I would be parents.

"John." I said even more quietly this time, uncertain as to how he would respond this time.

"What, Sherlock?" He said loudly, filled with frustration.

I flinched away at the anger I picked up in his tone. Nerves were running high and the tension in the room was so strong I could taste it, so I couldn't blame him for snapping at me… But it hurt nonetheless.

John sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean for that to come out so angrily."

He sounded like a parent trying to comfort his own child after just yelling at him for something ridiculous. But the fact that John could make that tone work on me was just plain embarrassing. "It's okay, John. But what if something goes wrong? What if something has _already_ gone wrong? They've been in there a long time. I know that for some women, especially those who are having their first baby, labor can last far too long. This places the baby and the mother at risk for serious issues such as infections."

John went into doctor mode. "Even if that does occur, the doctors know what they're doing. Even I know that administering oxytocin in a case like that can move the procedure along a lot more smoothly."

I thought for a moment before coming up with another one. "But what if the baby is in the breech position? The ideal position for the baby to be delivered is head down, facing the mother's back, with the back of the head against the pelvis and the chin tucked down into the chest. This allows the baby to easily travel down the birth canal. But if it's not, there can be complications."

John chuckled slightly before answering. "That one is easy. Breech babies are often found well before the due date, and can be dealt with before complications arise. In some cases, the baby can be manipulated and turned to correct the positioning, and in other cases, the use of a vacuum assist, forceps, or a C-section may be needed for complete safety."

"But what about a prolapsed or compressed umbilical cord? Any of that could easily kill the child…"

"Sherlock. Stop this, please. The doctors in there know what they are doing." He got out of his chair and crossed to room to join me in the poorly lit corner that I'd been sulking in. He grasped my hand tightly. "Everything is going to be fine, Sherlock. So please stop worrying yourself. You'll go grey."

I squeezed John's hand slightly, but I remained silent. I was afraid that if I tried to say anything, my voice would crack and I would completely break down. It was something I'd never done before, but there's a first for everything.

The doctor walked out of the delivery room that Piper was in. John and I stood up simultaneously.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson?" She looked up from her clipboard and smiled. "Everything went smoothly. Miss Aarons gave birth to a very healthy baby boy. You may step in and see him now if you would like."

I breathed in a sigh of relief and watched John head eagerly for the door. I followed a bit more slowly, almost a bit reluctantly. My expectations were high. They had been rising exponentially for nine months now, and I was afraid that if those expectations of my new son were not met, I would be extremely disappointed. Along with everything and everyone else in my life, besides John, I was afraid that as soon as I'd spent a good hour or so with him, I would become bored with him. The last thing I wanted was to be a horrible father by neglecting his own son like my own father had done. Not like it had mattered to me, I'd done just fine.

I debated staying outside the room, but then I heard my child's quiet cry through the door John had just entered. Entranced, I walked in to observe my surroundings. Clean, well kept, but dull as well as boring and predictable. John stood next to the bed, rocking back and forth, making awkward baby sounds at something in his arms. I assumed it to be the baby, and by my emotional status at the time, that was a very impressive deduction. I could see Piper lying down, she looked worn out, but she looked happy. She turned and smiled at me and I smiled back. I wouldn't know until much later how much joy this women was bringing into my life.

John turned around and smiled at me. That smile was so beautiful and so perfect that it almost took my breath away. I knew I could love anything that made the man I loved so happy. John held out the little bundle to me and I took it cautiously. I remembered how to hold a newborn baby as some research I'd done in preparation flew through my head: allow the back of the baby's head to rest inside the inner part of the elbow, with the length of the body resting on the forearm; the outer hip and upper legs should rest gently within your hand; the baby's inside arm should rest over his abdomen. I did exactly that as I held the tiny being in my hands. At approximately seven pounds, I could've squashed it if I'd wanted to. But the only thing racing through my head now was keeping this baby safe. I knew from that moment on, I would give up my life before letting anyone hurt my family. Because that's what I had now, a family.

The tiny eyes open and I saw a reflection of myself in those eyes. My expectations were surpassed, and I knew everything would be alright. I looked up at John and smiled. "Hamish?"

With tears in his eyes, John just nodded.

* * *

_**This chapter was long overdue. I apologize for that! Been quite busy lately.**_

_**Feel free to leave your opinions, good or bad, I take them all to heart.**_

_**Thanks for sticking with me! I'll try to update soon. c:**_


	4. Up All Night

Hamish's cry could be heard from his new room for the third time in the past hour. I sighed. Five… Four… Three… Two…

"Sherlock!" John emerged from our room. "Just this once? Please?"

I looked up at him impatiently. His hair was disheveled and his clothes wrinkled from sleep. "No, John. Go back to bed. It's three in the morning."

"But Sherlock. I can't stop feeling like a bad parent." John rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Can I just get him just this once?"

I sighed. "John. We've already had this conversation multiple times. I will not have our son dependent on us. He needs to learn that crying will not result in someone immediately coming to baby him. Even though it might tear at your heart strings and induce unbearable feelings of guilt, we as parents should not automatically rush to the bedside when our baby is screaming rather than sleeping soundly. Allowing infants to cry for a short time rather than immediately comforting them does no harm, even you know this John. And as we've both learned the past few nights, when we let him cry for just a few minutes, he has started to learn to soothe himself. And just for the record," I got up and held my husband in my arms. "You are the exact _opposite_ of a bad parent."

John held on to me tightly. "Really?"

"Of course, John. You are caring and generous and so full of love. You're intelligent and brave and sensitive all at the same time. You make the perfect and ideal father." I answered truthfully.

"Thank you, love." He hugged me tightly.

I smiled and let go of him. I headed back to my microscope.

"Will you not come to bed then?" John asked with concern in his voice. "You haven't slept in almost ninety-six hours. This case you're on has started to take a toll on your health."

"I'm fine, John. The human body can go seven days without sleep before dying of exhaustion and hallucinations don't start until day five. Four days is hardly anything."

"Please come to bed. You need sleep. And if you're not going to sleep, could you at least eat something? I feel like I'm failing as your spouse."

I didn't reply. John was only exaggerating upon things I was already aware of.

John sighed and walked up to me, sliding his arms around my neck. "What are you working on?"

"The children poisonings case." I frowned. "It bothers me that I can't catch this guy."

John's arms tensed and I knew we were thinking the same thing. "Tell me about this one again?"

"Children of all ages and both genders are stolen from their homes, usually from their beds, right from under their parent's noses. They are returned seven days later, dead, with this poison having being in their system for under twenty-four hours. The culprit has left me nothing to go on. Apart from this unknown poison. The first was almost a year ago, and for some reason, there was about a five month break. However, last week there were two victims only a day apart. Twenty-one kids, ages from one week to twelve years have been murdered in cold blood."

I stopped for a breath. My hands were curled into fists and my eyes were shut tightly. Never before had a case caused me any emotional discomfort. But this one was hitting a little too close to home.

I felt John's lips moving along my neck and I groaned. "Is now really the time?"

"Yes." Was John's short but firm answer. I couldn't argue. John and a sort of power over me that no one could ever compete with. I stood up and turned around, pulling John into a desperate and almost sloppy kiss. On normal cases, I would keep my distance. John was the world's biggest distraction, but this time I couldn't hold back any longer.

My fingers clumsily attempted to unbutton my shirt, but soon John's expert hands took over. He slid it off my shoulders and I didn't even flinch as my favorite purple shirt hit the ground.

Abruptly, John pulled away and winked at me before turning around and heading for the bedroom. Before I could begin to process what just happened or why I was confused, he slid off his shirt and tossed it onto the sofa. And right before he disappeared into our room, he ditched his pants. My trousers suddenly grew too tight at that not so subtle invitation.

I glanced back to my microscope and laptop on the table, but it really wasn't that hard of a decision. The case could wait till the morning. Before I'd consciously made that choice, however, I was tossing my remaining clothes to the floor and all but sprinting in after John.

Hamish cried out once more, but John didn't say a word. His mouth was a little busy at the moment.

* * *

**_Well that was anything but subtle..._**

**_I've updated two stories in one night. I'm feeling very accomplished. c:_**

**_I could wait a whole month or so now... Just kidding, I'm not that mean._**

**_Thanks for following guys. c: Love youuuu. Leave your reviewss. They make me happyyy._**

**_Shout out to my amazing Spockkk. c: I love you. c;_**


	5. Seven Days

I heard Hamish cry, again. He was obviously in need of _something_. I trudged up to his room, regretful of having to leave my research. However, John was at work and since I was Hamish's father, it seemed only appropriate that I take care of him as well.

He was sitting up in his crib and I was taking aback. A normal child doesn't sit up until around eight months. And Hamish hadn't even hit the seven month mark yet. First a baby has to have enough balance, arm strength, and head, neck, and lower-body control, before being able to sit up and take in a whole new world. At that point, their improving eyesight will allow them to see objects outside their direct line of vision - and they'll try to pull themselves up to get a better look. At first, they will be incapable of sitting up for long on their own. And to think he'd been sitting up for any length of time was astounding. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I was proud and very caring of the baby boy.

I went over to him and wiped the large crocodile tears of his face before picking him up gently. I felt that small tightening in my stomach that I got every time I held him. I smiled down at the thick, dark curls starting to grow and his icy blue eyes, almost an exact mirror of mine. He had been lucky enough to receive my dashing good looks; hopefully it would last and not change with time.

I carried him down to the kitchen and started the tedious process of fixing him a bottle, knowing that was what he wanted. I'd quickly learned the meanings of each of his cries, whereas John still struggled between the real ones and his "hold me" ones.

I sat down in my chair and fed him, just relishing in the fact that I was holding a small living being in my hands. Not only was he a small living being, but Hamish was a small living being that I had played a part in making. Without my part in this, he would simply not exist.

Hamish pushed away his half-finished bottle and looked at me with big, prodding eyes. If he been much older, I would have assumed he was taking after his father and deducing me or my surroundings. Many people incorrectly assumed that because from age zero to one, the baby's brain, grows about 60 percent of its ultimate increase, the baby are really smart. However, it's not necessarily that babies are getting smarter. It's just that adults are learning more about what they know.

Hamish finished his bottle and I attempted to burp him, which turned out to be a _long_ and _tedious_ process, but now that Hamish was fed and happy again, I could get back to my case.

I carried him back to his room and laid him back down in his crib. I laughed quietly at the irony of the fact that he _always_ got hungry during his afternoon naps when _I_ had him, not when John did. The fact that my at home work was more important than John's seemed to be irrelevant in Hamish's behavior.

I returned to the kitchen table. The previous day, I had received an untouched sample of the poison and I wanted to see how it reacted with different solutions.

Since John had made sure that I could no longer keep or bring any form of acid or base home, I would have to find something around the house. Milk! It's slightly acidic, containing lactic acid. It would work alright. I opened the fridge and pulled out an… empty gallon of milk. I sighed, quickly sending a text to John. _We are out of Milk. –SH_

Not even a minute later came John's annoying reply. _We are always out of milk. –JW_

_Your point? –SH_

_ I thought we were just stating facts. –JW_

_ Go pick up some milk. –SH_

_ It's _your_ fault we never have any. Go get it yourself. –JW_

_ Please… John… -SH_

_ No, Sherlock. I'm working. –JW_

_ Clearly not, you're texting. –SH_

_ I'm _multitasking_, clearly. Go out and get the milk yourself. –JW_

I sighed. There was no winning with this guy. _Fine. –SH_

I stepped out of the flat, making sure I remembered to lock the door. I couldn't be any longer than fifteen to twenty minutes. Because really, how long does it take to get milk anyway? If I averaged 5.6 minutes to and from the supermarket which is my slowest, approximately 3.3 minutes to walk in and grab the milk, and two to seven minutes to check out, it would take me a maximum of around twenty-two minutes.

However, before long I found myself faced with a problem. I stood in front of the dairy section of the supermarket, staring at the chilled shelves. Why were there so many types of milk? Whole milk, semi-skimmed milk, skimmed milk, homogenized milk, long-life milk, ultra-heat treatment milk, buttermilk, acidophilus milk, reduced-lactose milk, ultrafiltration milk, organic milk, goat milk, flavored milk, sterilized milk, filtered milk, and even a few more. What would possibly work best with my experiment?

An unexpected twenty minutes later, I found myself in a long self-checkout line. After another ten, I found myself having a "row" (as John had once put it) with a chip-and-pin machine. I'd thought John had been exaggerating when complaining about them, but I soon realized they were complicated, yet dull and predictable.

I finally returned to the flat after almost a whole sixty minutes. Immediately, I became alarmed when the door was unlocked. But my uneasiness subsided when I saw John making tea in the kitchen.

"Did you get the milk?" John asked without turning around.

"Yeah. Although, it's not what we normally get, but I needed some for my experiment." I said, shutting the door.

"Really?" John sighed. "I knew I should've picked some up myself." He turned around and frowned at me.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"Where's Hamish?" John asked, nervously.

"What do you mean 'where's Hamish?' I left him in his room. I figured I'd be back in twenty minutes and he had just been fed, so he should be fine."

"Are you sure you didn't take him to the supermarket with you and leave him there?" By now John was all but screaming at me.

"Yes, I'm sure. I think I'd know where my own kid was at. What are you freaking out about? He's up in his crib, most likely fast asleep."

"He is not. I went up there earlier, but I assumed you had taken him with you."

"That's ridiculous." I replied, making my way towards his room. "He's a baby, where is he going to go?" I flung open the door and just stared in disbelief at the empty crib. Gone. He was just… gone.

I could hear John phoning Lestrade, but I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

All I could think was that I did this. I had let our baby Hamish get kidnapped.

We had seven days.

* * *

**_Well crap. You should have seen this coming. :o_**

**_Sorry it's been taking me so long to upload. I've been busy with... Nothing really. :c_**

**_Just haven't been in a real good writing mood. _**

**_I'll try to update as soon as I can... But you know how long that could be. ._**

**_Love you guys, you're awesome. Let me know what you think in the reviews or send me a private message. c:_**


	6. Jumpers and Tears

"Sherlock!" I heard John yell to the outer walls of my mind palace. I chose to ignore him, delving deeper into my thinking. But to be perfectly honest, I was more _sulking_ rather than thinking. I knew it was my fault that Hamish had been taken from us, yet I wasn't any closer to solving the case than I had been the first day I'd started off. I was being outsmarted and I had been given just under the adequate amount of information I needed to solve the case. I was almost positive Moriarty was behind it, but knowing that didn't help. It only made me worry more.

The room seemed to shake and I wearily opened my eyes to find John shaking my shoulders, in the middle of a rant, with tears streaming down his face. "…Sherlock Holmes! You can't just sit here and _wait_ for our son to be killed. Do something!"

I looked at him closely, annoyed with having been interrupted yet again from thinking and sulking. "He isn't _our_ son John. He is mine. He is in no way biologically related to you. I am his one and only father. So you can stop worrying so much about _my_ son." I shut my mouth as soon as I opened it, realizing what I'd just said. I didn't mean a word of it, but in the heat of the moment, I'd let my anger take over. Something I was not used to.

John took a small step back and stood up straight, "Right. Well, while you sit here moping, I'm going to go find _your_ son for you. You can thank me later, Sherlock."

I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, "John, I…" But he turned and walked away. I watched him put on his jacket and walk out of the flat. I was tempted to follow him, but I knew he wasn't particularly interested in my company at the moment.

I sat back down and sighed. That was, without a doubt, the most stupid thing I had ever done. And that was including all the drugs, and all the stupid stuff I had ever done while on the drugs. Tears stung my eyes. Hamish was gone. It was my fault. And now my one true love was beyond angry at me.

I shook my head, trying to free my head of those thoughts. Sentiment was the last thing I needed to distract me in a moment like this. I had one hundred and forty-four hours before the poison would be administered to Hamish. If I had thought this case was personal before, it was extremely, gut wrenching personal now.

**_One hour later…_**

My eyes drifted across the different people walking down the street. I could have deduced anything about any one person around. John had always liked to play that "game" with me. He'd point out a person at random and I'd tell him anything and everything I could about their life stories. I found it somewhat illogical, but it made it worthwhile just to see John's reaction when I said something absolutely "fantastic" or "brilliant."

"_Him." John said, pointing to a tall, dark-haired man._

_ "Well, he's a businessman." I said, warming myself up._

_ "Yes, well, I could have gotten at least that far. The suit, tie, and briefcase make that rather obvious. And his rather serious demeanor doesn't seem to help much." John seemed a little too smug for my tastes._

_ "Let me finish," I demanded, trying to sound impatient. It might have worked on someone else, but John just chuckled. My words were no longer deemed as a threat by him. It was a shame. "He is a businessman; however, he is not happy with his job or his life and general. He has plans to quit his job today actually, and elope with his new girlfriend. But my guess is that their marriage will last maybe a good six months. If even that."_

_ John grinned. "Is that all?"_

_ "Unimpressed?" But I continued to humor him anyways, knowing that's all he really wanted. "His parents died while he was a young child. My guess is in an unfortunate car accident. No, wait. It was a fire. Growing up he was stuck in multiple different foster homes. He grew up around druggies, drunks, and idiots. No one had any good jobs and that is most likely the reason he ended up in a high end business company. However, those jobs are quite stressful and time consuming, reason enough to quit in my opinion. Jobs like that are just dull and tedious. Too time consuming without any interesting results." I paused to take a breath, before John asked for more or decided that just quite wasn't my best. But he took the moment of silence as an opportunity to pull me by the collar and kiss me over the table._

_ John was not one for any public displays of affection, the whole "not gay" thing was still a somewhat touchy subject. Even if we were married and we now had a child together, it was still hard on him. Yet, he had his moments of weakness, and I made sure to take full advantage of them. Not only did I feel proud to be with such an amazing guy in public, but it was good for others to see that John was taken. A ring wasn't always enough for everybody. And if one thing bothered me above all others, it was when other people tried to flirt with my John._

My mind came back to the present and I sighed. I had to fix this as soon as possible. Things were only going to get worse if I didn't.

I started down the street, keeping my eyes out for an available cab, even though I knew this part of the city was unlikely to have one at this time of the day during this touring season. There were too many people and too few cabbies. I was walking past a small store, when something caught my eye in the display window. A small beige jumper, just like John's favorite, only it was Hamish's size. I walked in and bought it without giving it a second thought. I would be bringing our Hamish home, if only so I could allow him to wear that jumper.


	7. A Last Resort

Two days left. That was all we had. Forty-two hours, two thousand five hundred and twenty minutes, one hundred and fifty-one thousand two hundred seconds. Now the countdown had really started. And that was already counting the twelve hours that the poison had to attack the body. First it attacked the immune system, making the body vulnerable and weak. Soon it moved on to the cells themselves, changing and almost _mutating_. Before long it started to infect the brain cells, leaving the body brain dead long before it was actually dead.

I knew all this, yet I still had _no_ idea what this was. I could only assume it was some sort of compound that the culprit had created from a mixture of various components. Either way, it was still very, very deadly.

I really had hoped it wouldn't have to come down to this, but I was running out of options… and time. Frankly, I was desperate.

I started ransacking the flat, looking for John's gun. He was with Lestrade, like he had been everyday avoiding me. In his defense, I was avoiding him as well. I jumped when I heard the door open, it was early afternoon and John had rarely returned before dark recently.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?"

"Why are you home so early, John?"

"I asked you first." John tossed his jacket aside.

"I asked you second." I stood up straight.

"Stop with this. Don't be such a child. What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for something. How did things go with Lestrade today? Anything new? Good news perhaps?"

"No, and what about you?" John asked professionally. That is what this had become, a business deal. It was just another case similar to before we were a couple. But even that was better this. This was just plain uncomfortable.

"Nothing. What are you looking for?"

"Something."

"Well what is something?"

"Something is a noun. It means some indeterminate or unspecified thing." I replied.

"Sherlock! Can you be serious for once?"

"John, where is your gun?" I said, giving up and turning around to face him.

"Why?" John's hand hovered over his jacket. No wonder I couldn't find it, he had started carrying it on him.

"I have a plan. It's sort of a last resort… But we are running out of time."

John took the gun out from jacket without another word. "Alright, I trust you. But you have to let me know if there is anything I can do to help you."

I took the gun slowly. "Thank you, but I brought this on. I need to fix it myself. I'm going to bring _our_ son home.

John smiled a bit and I reached out to him. He all but melted against me. "John, I'm really sorry."

"It's okay… It's been really hard avoiding you the past few days."

"I know. It's been rough on me too." I kissed the top of his head. "But I've got to take care of this now, alone."

John nodded. "Okay. But if you need me, please call. Where are you going exactly? You didn't say."

"You do not want to know." I said quietly.

John stole his gun back from me. "You can't have my gun if you don't tell me."

"You really want me to risk my life even more by _not _taking a gun with me?"

John flinched but didn't say anything.

"Fine. But you have to promise me you won't come chasing after me. Don't come after me unless I tell you to."

John just glared at me and I sighed. I knew there was no stopping him. If he ever thought I was in danger, then he would be right behind me, trying to save my arse as always. Ever since the first day I'd met him, he'd had my back. On the second day I had known him, he killed someone to save my life. Who knew what he would do after a couple years of marriage? "I have a good idea about who took Hamish. It's a dangerous plan, but I have no other choice but to go after him."

John looked worried for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "Okay, I believe in you." He looked strangely at the sofa for a moment and pointed. "What is that?"

"A sofa?" I asked, confused.

"No, no." John rolled his eyes and walked over to pick up Hamish's new jumper. "This."

"Well that is a jumper. Which is a knit garment intended to cover the torso and arms, popular with men, women and children of all ages. It is often worn over a shirt, blouse, T-shirt, or other top, but may also be worn next to the skin. Jumpers were traditionally made from wool, but can now be made of cotton, synthetic fibers, or any combination thereof. Jumpers are maintained by washing or dry cleaning, and the use of a lint roller or pill razor. In America they are known as sweaters, in other places they are known as pullovers. You constantly wear them. Shouldn't you at least know the proper name?"

"I do! And you know you don't need to spout off like that. Despite what you might think, you are not a walking computer…"

"Clearly I'm not a walking computer. I'm made of flesh and blood, whereas computers are made of plastic, wiring, and other technical things that I really don't have time to get into. Also, the last time I checked, you're laptop doesn't get up and walk itself to the charger. That statement was purely illogical."

"Stop being a smart arse." He unfolded the jumper. "It's so little…"

"Yes, well, you see… Little people wear little jumpers."

John's eyes teared up a bit. "Go get him, Sherlock. I want him home."

* * *

**_This chapter was somewhat not needed.. _**

**_However I enjoyed Sherlock's smart comments. c: I hope you did as well._**

**_Sorry I haven't been uploading much... I'm afraid that I'm currently slightly addicted to watching Doctor Who._**

**_Halp me. xD Just kidding, I don't want your help. c:_**

**_Let me know what you thought of the chapter!_**

**_There will probably be one or two more... Not entirely sure. _**

**_Love you guys!_**


	8. London's Finest

"I was starting to wonder if you would ever show up." I heard Moriarty call out from the shadows as I approached his flat. I was in billionaire territory, the flat Moriarty was living in was around sixty-five million pounds. It was London's finest. There were five bedrooms, six bathrooms, three reception areas, and plenty of viewing windows to look out of. I knew he had money, but why he would waste it on this? I hadn't the slightest clue. His motives were always a bit... Messed up.

"Isn't this area a little too occupied for you to do what you do without _someone_ noticing?" I asking, glancing around the unsurprisingly busy block.

"Half of the people here have their own scandals to cover up. But for the others, it's almost _too_ easy for me to be able to keep their mouths shut. Some require a simple threat to their family or friends, others just a small bribe. All of the others have their mouths permanently shut. But people are just too afraid to go against me: they know the power I hold. And plus, I don't usually bring business home with me. However, in instances like these, it's more fun." Moriarty stepped out to where I could see him and opened the door. "After you."

I stepped inside and tried to allow my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. He had the windows completely covered to not allow any form of sunlight in, and as soon as Moriarty shut the door, I was at a major disadvantage. He lived here, I didn't. He had walked around here multiple times in the light and dark, and I'd only been here once before, and that time I had been blindfolded and handcuffed to a man that was barely alive. Jim would know where every piece of furniture was at, every wall, every stupid piece of trash or clothing, and he would know where all the little things that could trip me up were. Wires, rugs, snags in carpet, warped wooden floors. He would know anything and everything, leaving me to stumble around. So I stood completely still.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I don't exactly play fair." Moriarty's voice came from directly behind me, but I forced myself to remain where I was, whatever I did, I could not get disoriented or forget which way I was facing. "Playing fair is so boring. It's too predictable." He continued.

"Where's Hamish?" I asked, masking anything that would make me look frightened including fast heartbeat, increased breathing, sweating, rapid eye movement, twitching. The only advantage I had being in the dark was that he couldn't see how scared I really was. But I knew he was just like me, able to sense it, rather than having to see it.'

"Straight to the point then? I prefer a little foreplay... But alright. If we must get straight to it..." He suddenly plunged his hand into my pocket, pulling out John's gun. "It's not a good idea to have weapons around children, Sherlock. You should be aware of that. Accidents happen more often than not. Ah… I just knew you would make a terrible parent. You've been all over drugs, you spend more time with dead bodies than you do with alive ones, you left your child at home while you went out for milk, you still have a terrible smoking habit… And yes, I can smell it, even over your cologne. I'm not an idiot like your pet John."

I remained silent, even though I wanted to yell at him and break his neck then and there. He had people, he had backup. I didn't even have a gun anymore. All he wanted was for me to get angry, lose it for a small amount of time, so he could say that he successfully manipulated me. It wasn't going to happen, at least not until Hamish was safe at home and _I_ was the only one in danger.

The consulting criminal snapped and the lights flickered on. I rolled my eyes. Too lazy for a light switch was he? I quickly took in my surroundings. There was expensive… well everything. And I would have been in awe if I would have been there with any other person on the planet.

"Like it?" Jim asked, grinning stupidly.

"It's alright, kind of dull." I replied nonchalantly.

For a second it sounded like he almost growled, but soon he was leading me through the flat, stopping at the second door on the left. He gestured towards it. "You first."

I opened the door cautiously, flipping on the light as I did so. My heart leaped when I saw Hamish sitting up in a rather large and fancy play pen. I ran over to him and picked him up, checking him over for any injuries or signs of abuse.

"He is fine. I've kept him fed, which is not fun by the way. Babies and toddlers are so much more high maintenance than adults." Moriarty rolled his eyes. "I'm never having kids. And I am surprised you and John chose to, it _does_ slow you down. I've noticed."

I glared at him, but then my phone went off.

"You might want to get that. It could be your little pet, although I'm starting to wonder if _you're_ the pet in that relationship. Or I guess it could be your motherly brother. He just never leaves you alone, does he."

I pulled my mobile out of my pocket without a word. _Starting to get worried, I'm coming to help. Don't reply. Just keep Moriarty talking. –JW_

I frowned. I had wanted him to stay home, I was doing just fine right now, Moriarty hadn't even threatened me yet, and it had to be a new record.

I slid my phone back into my pocket.

"Not going to reply to it?"

"Nope, it was nothing important." I lied and then decided to change the subject. "Why have you been doing this? They were just innocent children. They haven't ever done anything to you."

"No. They haven't, you are correct."

"Then why bother?"

"It was all leading up to you, Sherlock."

"But why?" I didn't understand, but I wasn't about to let _him_ know that.

"I like to watch you dance." He raised John's gun and pointed it straight at me. "And let's just say that I've gotten rather bored with our little games. I'm afraid I can't allow you to continue, I just can't."

* * *

**_And boom. xD Major cliffhanger. Whooop. Sorry, not really though. c:_**

**_Sorry it's taken me so long to update... I'd say I've been busy, but I'm not going to lie._**

**_I just haven't been in a writing mood. I'll try and get the next chapter posted soon._**

**_I'm estimating two more chapters... Ish... Idk really. xD_**

**_Leave your reviews please! They make me happy. c:_**


	9. Two Shots

I turned my body enough so Hamish was shielded from Moriarty's gun. There were only two people in the entire world I would willingly take a bullet for: my beautiful son and my brilliant husband.

"I'm really not interested in hurting your 'little bundle of joy', Sherlock." Jim smirked. "However, if you have got help coming along, I wouldn't hesitate to shoot your little pet boy toy. I also wouldn't mind taking down your brother and his _minor_ position in the British government. In reality, I can do whatever I please with him around, but it would still be fun."

I ignored his threats. There was nothing that I could say or do to stop John from coming. My only choice was to have faith in him, and hope he wasn't coming alone. Hopefully he had been smart enough to get Lestrade or Mycroft's help, or even better, both. I needed to take John's advice and do my best to stall Moriarty. It was time to start talking. There was no way I could win this, he had the gun, all I had was my brain. "What's the compound?"

"Oh, just a little something I had my labs cook up for a bit of fun. Do you like it? The pain is supposedly excruciating. Brilliant, isn't it?" Moriarty gave me a wide grin.

My stomach churned. "Brilliant? This isn't brilliant. People have died."

"That's what people do!" He shouted. If no one heard him yell that loud, this whole neighborhood would have to be deaf, or maybe they had just heard things like it enough to know better than to call the authorities or come over for a word with the consulting criminal.

Hamish started crying and I rocked him back and forth. Now was _not_ a good time to annoy the maniac.

"Yes, but these are children, some are even babies. They have entire lives ahead of them, and you're just taking that away from them."

"You make it sound so terrible when you say it like that."

I tried not to show my true anger. "Please tell me then, James, how is a way to say it that _doesn't_ sound terrible."

"I'm helping control the population and at the same time I'm ridding the world of annoying pests." Jim growled. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't call me James."

"You're a monster, James." I replied, ignoring his request.

He glared at me before replying. "I almost thought you would appreciate if not approve of what I was doing here. I believe I have misjudged you once again, Sherlock."

That comment took me off guard, and I couldn't keep the look of genuine surprise off my face. "How could I _possibly_ appreciate what you're doing here?"

"I know you have always hated children. Well you have up until recent events, I suppose. They are annoying, loud, smelly, and they can't fend for themselves. They have no respect for adults, and even if you tell them constantly to _not_ touch your car, they still do. They are ungrateful and they have irrational fears... But they are not frightened of things that they should be, like me for example."

"You are taking away people's lives, destroying them, removing them from the face of the earth. Not only are they just people, but young people, innocent people. How could I possibly find that okay? You're not just _killing_ people, this is _murder_, Moriarty." I said seethingly.

"What's the difference?" He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes at his ignorance. "Murder is a premeditated, unlawful act of taking another human beings life. Whereas killing could be in self-defense or in war, but at least for good reason. But you're making this into a sport and hurting other people in the process. This ends _now_."

Jim's finger itched closer to the trigger on John's gun. "We've talked long enough, Sherlock. You are right, this does end _now_. We are done here."

I felt the pain in my shoulder before I realized he had managed to shoot the gun, my heart pounded in my ears and I made sure to keep a tight grip on Hamish. We slid to the floor and I placed a firm hand against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. The pain was too much, more than I'd ever felt, and I struggled to remain conscious.

A second shot rang out and I flinched, expecting more pain or even a quick shot to the head, but it never came. The last thing I heard before blacking out was a different body hitting the floor with a thud.

* * *

**_I know... This chapter took way too long... I really am sorry._**

**_I edited this in a hurry, so if you saw any mistakes, please feel free to tell me._**

**_This chapter is pretty short, I'm sorry.. But I just felt it summed up a little too well..._**

**_Expect one more chapter... And hopefully I'll have it posted within the next week, I've already started it... So hopefully it won't be too long._**

**_Thank you guys for being patient. You guys are amazing. c:_**

**_Leave your reviews if you like. And watch out for a new collection of one-shots I'll be starting tonight. c:_**


	10. Sentimental Phrases

I woke up and immediately took in my surroundings: white room, bright lights (too bright for sleeping people), beeping and other annoying noises. Clearly I was in a hospital bed… But the fact that I'd just woken up alone worried me.

I tried to lift my hand to the dull pain in my shoulder, but stopped when the IV tugged. I cringed and laid my hand back down.

Staying still, as to avoid any further pain, I tried to remember what had happened and how I could have possibly gotten here. I could remember leaving home, on route for Moriarty… But I struggled to recall what had happened there, or even if I'd found Hamish. I growled in frustration. I hadn't had any blackouts since my drug days all those years ago.

When the door was flung open, I was two seconds away from pressing the nurse call button. I looked up to see my clearly out of breath husband. He walked over to me swiftly and took my hand. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I wanted to be here when you woke up, but Lestrade had to talk to me for a bit, and I had to give a statement downstairs, and I ran back up here as fast as I could, but I'm so sorry."

"John, calm down. It's okay. I'm glad to see you're alright. What happened? I can't remember…"

"You went to Moriarty's to find Hamish. You made me promise not to get involved, but you really should have known I wouldn't listen. Since when do I do what you say anyways? After you'd gone, I realized you really shouldn't have gone alone so I called Lestrade for backup… And I umm… borrowed a gun. I got there just as Jim shot you in the shoulder." John's eyes were now filled with tears. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner. I could have stopped it."

I squeezed his hand lightly. "Shh… It's okay. We're both okay, that's what matters. We're both alive, and I'll get better. Did we get Hamish back?" I asked nervously, fearing the answer.

"Yes! Of course, we rescued our baby… Well technically _you_ rescued our baby. He's perfectly fine. I think he's maybe just missing his father a little bit. Mrs. Hudson has him now." He smiled. "I couldn't trust anyone more."

I felt myself breathing normally again when I heard Hamish was fine. Finally I could ask the question that had been sitting in the dark, shadowy corners of my mind palace since I'd woken up. "And Moriarty? What of him? Did he get away? Or is he in custody? What happened to him?"

John's expression turned grim and I feared the worst. He had escaped. We still had no idea what this new compound was. Moriarty was out there. He could be anywhere, and we had no way to stop him. Who knew what he'd attempt next? "John? Tell me."

"I took care of him." John replied quietly.

I suddenly remembered sitting on the floor covered in my own blood, holding Hamish, and hearing that second shot ring out. My heart ached. Once again, John had come through and killed someone to save my life. This man had to be the bravest and most amazing person on the entire earth. And he was mine. "Thank you," I whispered.

"We don't have to fear him anymore." John tried to smile and failed.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course. You were the one that was injured, remember?"

"Yes. But you have just shot a man."

"Well he wasn't a very nice man." John grinned. "It's the same shoulder," he said, pointing to his old war wound. "We might even have similar scars. Now if that isn't meant to be… I don't know what is."

I chuckled. "I love you."

"I love you as well." John leaned down to press his lips lightly against mine.

"Forever and always." I murmured, choosing an overly sentimental phrase he had once used long ago. It was repetitive and illogical because we didn't really have "forever." However, it still made John grin like an idiot.

"Forever and always."

_Ten Years Later_

"John!" I shouted from the sofa.

"What, Sherlock? I'm making dinner! You're the one that didn't want to go out and now you're going to bother me from the sofa?" John yelled from the kitchen.

I groaned loudly and pressed my face into a cushion. I was frustrated, angry, and even a tad bit embarrassed.

"Hamish, what is wrong with your father this time?"

I could just _see_ the smug face he was making without even bothering to look at him. "I beat father at Cluedo."

John chuckled. "Again? What is that? The _eleventh_ time this week? And it's only Wednesday!"

"Shut up, John! And it's the ninth. I've won… _Twice_!" I complained.

"You _cheated_ twice. It doesn't count if you cheat, father."

"Stop talking like you are thirty. You're not even eleven yet." I groaned. "Hey, how did you know I cheated?"

"Well I know you can't win against me. And once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

I was stunned into silence. I was hurt… But I couldn't help but grin. He was my boy, he was going to be so much smarter than me, and I was so insanely proud of him. I turned to look over at him, resuming my sulking face. "How am I supposed to know _you_ didn't cheat?"

Hamish smiled and got up from my chair. How he always had the nerve to sit in my chair discombobulated me each time. "If you can't deduce it, you don't need to know." He walked into the kitchen. "Dad?"

"Hm?" John said, busy with his cooking and domestic things. Dull. But delicious… John had become a surprisingly good cook in the past few years.

"You should join us for a game after dinner."

John laughed. "I'd have to be an idiot, or have gone completely insane to get involved in a war between the Holmes boys. But there's a slight possibility I might be both."

* * *

**_And then John kicks both their asses at Cluedo. xD Haha, highly unlikely.. However.._**

**_I'm sad to see that this story has finally reached its end. Thank _****_you guys so much for following it all the way through._**

**_It was fun to write, and there is a happy ending.. So you all can go on with your lives without so much of a tear._**

**_There is a possibility I might be taking a small break from writing for a while... I'm not really in the middle of anything anymoree._**

**_If that's the case.. Live long & Prosper. c:_**

**_You guys are utterly amazing. I love you all! Leave your reviewss. If you'd like to see something specific in a future fanfic, feel free to give me ideas._**

**_Until then... Good day. xD_**

**_xxx James Moriarty_**


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